


bumblebee bats

by someplacewarm



Category: Batgirl (Comics), Batman (Comics), Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics)
Genre: Blood and Injury, Case Fic, Crime Fighting, Drug Use, Family Feels, Gen, Guns, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Original Character Death(s), Original Female Character(s) - Freeform, Sibling Bonding, cass and jason bully a random kyle, cass is a badass what's new, dubious use of gotham geography, i mean its the batfam ofc there's blood, new villain btw, there's like one original character so, this is honestly not as serious as it sounds, this sounds really serious but it's actually not
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-12
Updated: 2019-10-12
Packaged: 2020-12-13 18:44:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21002417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/someplacewarm/pseuds/someplacewarm
Summary: When a new variant of an old case resurfaces, Jason has to gear up and do what the Red Hood does best.Unfortunately for him, Cassandra Cain wants to help and for Jason: where Bats go, so does their moral code.





	bumblebee bats

**Author's Note:**

> If you want to scream about comics with me, here's my [tumblr.](https://arkhamknightwing.tumblr.com)
> 
> I know the tags seem really grim but this really isn't all that dark. There's minor swearing, mention of drug use (minimal) and a very minor mention of suicide. If you're nervous about that, then you can read the notes at the end of the fic where I go in detail about what exactly happens. 
> 
> Thank you for reading!

Crown Point at this time of the night was usually swarming with quite the crowd. Everyone from top tier gangsters to no-name peddlers had places to be and any law abiding Gothamite would know that this was the region in the Bowery not to walk alone in -- neither without purpose nor a fully loaded gun. Jason had enough of both, as he zipped past the street in his car, well past the speed limit. 

Of all the little sects in the area, the red-light district was booming with the sugary voices of escorts luring in potential clients and stragglers trying to make a quick buck off of innocent bystanders. Neon lights flickered on and off, their reflection glowing faintly in the glistening wet streets. Jason pulled over by McSurley’s entrance and hopped off. 

In the rear-view mirror, he eyed a cop car gliding along the side of the road. He didn’t hold his breath, however; this beat cop had no business being here during work -- considering cops avoided Crown Point like the plague -- so this little visit had to mean pleasure. Even if he was here on work, he wouldn’t be stupid enough to cross the Red Hood alone. 

Jason sidestepped into a little alley behind the bar, tapping the side of his helmet to activate night vision. His vision of the alley was doused in dim yellow, multiple sensors scanning for heat signatures. 

The alley was clear, except for a cat lounging by the dumpster. It scampered away as Jason approached, like any East Side cat would. Trust down here was fickle, even among the animals. Survival meant having your own back. The biggest mistake to be made was to have the illusion that protection came in the form of other people. 

He was early. A quick glance at the time told him so. 

The wall of the bar he was leaning on vibrated to the beat of the muffled music playing from inside. The back door swung open and he caught a few words of some heavy rap song before the door shut again, downing the noise to a minimum. 

“Hey,” said Gabrielle Johnson, Red Hood’s informant for the East End gang. The street light above them shone just bright enough to reveal her face caked with sweat and displeasure. “About time you showed.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Jason asked, digging through his pocket for her weekly payment. 

“You’re probably here for poor Skye,” Gabrielle said, examining her nails with an air of indifference. Jason could hear the quiver in her voice that told him different. “GCPD pulled her body out of a dumpster this morning.”

“And the drug?” 

“Is the possible culprit,” she finished. 

“You know, I don’t pay you for information I already know.” Jason grumbled. “Tell me more about Skye. She was an escort here, wasn’t she?” 

Gabrielle simply looked at him, unimpressed. 

Jason sighed, taking out his wallet. He removed his credit card and drivers license and handed her the rest of the wallet. “Happy?”

She took it from him and shook her head. “Skye was a student at GSU, just like your last vic,” she explained. “One of the dancers told me she overheard Skye and some dealer on the phone talking about something that would ‘help with the anxiety.’” 

“We know who this dealer is?” Jason asked, leaning against the dumpster. The cat was watching him with leery, green eyes. The shade of green was so familiar it made him uncomfortable. It pushed at his bones and throbbed at him, daring him to be angry. He focused on the facts of the case instead. Two dead and one potent psychoactive drug out on the streets. 

“Clearly not from around this part of town,” Gabrielle said. “Or he wouldn’t have dared pick victims this young.” 

He knew what Gabrielle was implying. The Red Hood had a strict no-kids drug policy that almost all the East End gangs adhered to. This was a new player. 

“Anything else?”

“Cops came around asking for Skye’s phone,” Gabrielle replied, digging through her purse. She took out the phone and handed it to him. “Figured you had a better use for it.” 

She went back inside the bar, leaving him alone with the cat. 

.

Andy Ramirez was the first victim. He had snapped his neck trying to do an aerial cartwheel during Gotham State’s annual gymnastics meet. Police had concluded it as an accident but Jason had read Vicky Vale’s piece about it in the Gazette. Friends and family claimed Ramirez had been an ace gymnast even before he had learned to walk. An aerial cartwheel, according to them, was supposed to be a no-brainer but a change in his technique last minute had resulted in him landing on his neck. 

Jason drummed his fingers on the steering wheel to the beat of the rain outside. There was something familiar about this case. He pulled out Skye Lane’s phone and tapped through the contacts. She had been nineteen years old and the last anyone had seen of her was when she seemingly walked off a building’s rooftop in Crown Point, leaving no suicide note behind. 

There were no messages in her inbox. It seemed as though she had deleted all of them. No calls either.

Jason sighed. 

There was a case they had worked on – Batman and Robin – years ago that came to mind in Jason’s muddy puddle of memories. Somewhere swirling in the liquid green was the memory of a psychoactive drug that produced the same effects as seen in the victims. 

He picked up his own phone. A beat and two rings later, someone at the Manor picked up the phone. “Alfie,” Jason spoke, staring out the window of his car. Little flecks of rain dribbled down the window, making him feel icky inside. “I need your help. Are you at home?”

“Yes, Master Jason,” Alfred replied, his kind voice radiating warmth through the phone. It was funny how his voice almost made Jason homesick. “What will it be?”

“Couple years ago, Bats and I fought off the Scarecrow,” Jason explained. “He had come up with this fear inhibiting drug that caused people to do crazy, irrational things – things they wouldn’t normally do.”

“_In typical Jonathan Crane fashion. _”

“Yeah,” Jason muttered. “You mind sending me any files we had on the drugs? Files on the antidote would be helpful, too.” He knew Bruce kept all the old case files around; even if Scarecrow himself was in Arkham, it wouldn’t be of harm to compare case notes. They had never suffered from a lack of copycats down here in Gotham. 

“_I will see what I can find, Master Jason. _” 

“Thanks,” Jason replied, running his hands through his hair. He wondered if he should drop by the GCPD and take some blood samples of both the victims. It would be fairly easy to break in…

“_Is this for a case, Master Jason?_”

“Might just be,” Jason answered. “Someone’s messing with kids on my turf.” 

“Ah,” Alfred replied knowingly. “Any chance you’d heed my advice and tread with caution?”

_ When hell freezes over _, Jason thought. “Sure,” he replied. “Send me the details when you get ‘em.” 

.

The Crown Point Plaza sector of the GCPD was fairly easy to break into, as Jason had predicted. 

It was even more easy to set off a fire hydrant in the vicinity, making the evidence room security guard step out for a couple of minutes. 

All Jason needed was the blood samples of the victims. He was sure they kept it around somewhere, in this tiny back room. He treaded carefully, listening to sounds from the neighbouring rooms. The rain was still pattering lightly outside but the walls were thin so there was no risk of being disturbed. 

“…Well whoever broke in’s got that drug for sure, Lahey –”

Jason paused, training his ears to listen in to the conversation. 

“—You think I don’t know that, Sarge? Why else would I lie to the papers and call the deaths accidental? I couldn’t exactly just walk out there and say, ‘Oh, by the way, the GCPD had a break-in recently and a couple of Jonathan freakin’ Crane’s old drugs were stolen and now some psycho’s running around dousing kids with it.’” 

“You keep your goddamn voice low.” 

Jason scoffed. Of course, the incompetent GCPD was behind the shitshow. But that still didn’t answer the question of who the new player was. Jason found a box labelled ‘Lane + Ramirez’ containing little tubes of blood and a toxicology report. No wonder their stuff got stolen, he thought. Their system of organization was fairly obvious. They might as well have had a ‘Free Drugs!’ sign put up over their door. ‘100% off on all things crazy…’ 

“Jim Gordon gets the Batman to clean his messes up for him and what do we get? A possible demotion down the line. This city I tell you...” 

A sudden noise interrupted his flow of thought. The noises of rain had just become clearer, meaning someone had opened the window…

Jason pulled out his gun. A hooded black figure jumped from the sill and landed in front of him. Too small and slender to be the Batman but just right enough to be Batgirl. The suit was different from Barbara’s, covering the girl’s head entirely. Cassandra Cain, he guessed, considering Stephanie Brown was blonde. 

She held out a file. 

“Alfred sent you all the way here to give me this?” he asked, dubiously. “I’m sure he’s heard of like, email or instant messaging.” 

“Bored,” Cass shrugged. “Want to help with the case.” 

Jason snorted. That was as likely as saying Jason wanted to put on the Robin suit again. If anything, Alfred probably worried about Jason killing this new dealer, considering Bruce wasn’t in town. Whatever. He was just glad they didn’t send Nightwing. Younger Jason would have thrown a fit about this. Older Jason knew he had to compartmentalize – compromise on his short-term goals if it meant getting what he wanted in the long run. 

“Anyone ever tell you you’re a terrible liar?” he asked, sliding out the window, the box in one hand. He could feel her following him. 

“No,” she replied coolly. 

“It was a rhetorical question.” 

“Stupid question.” 

Jason sighed.

-

Jason Todd’s safehouse was filled with guns. 

Among other things, but mainly filled with guns, Cass observed. They hung across the walls and some were even put in placeholders under tables and chairs. 

The boy himself was seated on the couch, perusing the files she had brought over. He was trying to find traces of Scarecrow’s drug in both the victims’ blood, using the little that Bruce had preserved down at the cave. 

Cass continued walking around. The house was blank. Impersonal. There were no photographs, no personal effects, nothing. Just some sparse furniture and a fruit bowl with one apple. She picked it up and watched Jason. 

He was clearly bothered by her presence here. His shoulders were tense and he sighed in annoyance whenever he thought she wasn’t looking. 

“You should eat that before it spoils,” Jason said, looking up momentarily. “It’s been around for freaking ages.” 

Soft f, harsh k. His accent was not too similar to Bruce’s but they were both similar enough. Bruce’s voice was smoother, quieter. It was calculated, like he planned what he was going to say. Jason spoke like he was defensive. Like there was a wall he was trying to build around himself and whoever he was talking to. Like he was trying to get under her skin. 

“Gross,” she said, setting it back in the bowl. She thought about her own voice. About how it had no home, nothing identifiable – just an amalgam of other voices. “Drug?”

“It looks like a match,” he said, holding up his tablet for both of them to see. His hair was in his eyes. Cass wanted to brush it aside. “With a couple of variants added in. Robaxin being one of them.”

“Muscle relaxant,” Cass added, remembering the chemical from training.

“Looks like whoever stole the drug is trying to make some improvements to the old one,” Jason said, staring at the test tube with little coloured gas in it. “There’s a contact on Skye’s phone called ‘Kyle Dealer’. I’m assuming she means Kyle Fredrick, a fellow GSU student from one of her Calculus classes. I’m going to go give him a shake-down, you coming?”

“Shake-down?” she frowned.

“Classic interrogation,” Jason said, standing up. He began pulling his domino over his face. It was scarlet, a slash of deep red over his eyes. “Given how you’re sent here to babysit me, I figured you’d want to come with.” 

He was only half-joking. Cass could tell by the tense muscle around his jaw. _When we’re working on a case, it’s best to keep our personal feelings aside _, Bruce would tell her. Something told her whoever the Bat was, Jason would have acted the same way. Probably even worse. 

“Let’s go shake Kyle Dealer.” She agreed. 

.

“I gotta say,” Jason said, glancing at Cass. “Your suit makes you look like a baby bat. Like a bumblebee bat.” 

He was teasing her, probably to kill time. Cass wouldn’t have minded sitting in silence while they waited for Kyle to return to his dorm but Jason seemed intent on making this a confrontation. 

“You look like a baby tomato.” 

Jason chuckled, a short and sharp laughter escaping him. He set down his binoculars. “We’ve got to work on your comebacks, kid.” 

That was something Duke often said to her too. But that was Duke. Sweet, precious, angel Duke. Cass scowled at Jason. “Not a kid. Seven months older than you.” 

“Shit, really?” Jason asked. “You’re so short. What are you, 5’2?”

“Could kick your ass.” Cass reminded him. 

“Oh, with the things I’ve heard you can do?” Jason said. “No doubt about it.” 

He sounded genuine and Cass had to give him credit for that. Not all the boys took too well in the family to acknowledging others’ skills. Damian especially had been a little menace at the start. But he had learned. He had become better. Just like Cass hoped the brother beside her would.

She knew of his pain. It was almost impossible not to feel for him, seeing how he met his end. She knew of the way he impacted her family as well. She had never known him as Robin but she knew how his death had broken Bruce’s heart deeply. Despite having never properly met him, she felt like she had known him for ages, sitting beside him here on top of a random GSU building. She had felt his absence like a presence and she wanted to work on getting to know him. Help him get _better _. Despite everything else that she staunchly disagreed with. 

“Looks like our boy is home,” Jason said, grabbing his binoculars again. Cass eyed the gun in his holster. Maybe…

“How do you want to do this?”

Cass looked up at him. “Swing in.”

“That would scare the shit out of him.” Jason pointed out. 

“Yes.” Cass agreed. When all was said and done, there were still two deaths they had to solve. Potentially many more lives on the line. They had to work on the quickest way of getting answers. 

“Swinging in it is.”

She reached out for her grappling hook, as did Jason. She tapped the side of his holster. “3...2...1...”

They shot out, soaring across the narrow strip between buildings and landing in Kyle Fredrick’s bedroom. It was almost simultaneous, with Jason landing a little harder than Cass did, his boots making a _‘thud’_ on the carpet. 

“What the – “

“Skye Lane,” Red Hood growled to a trembling Kyle. “Andy Ramirez. You know what those two names have got in common?”

Kyle shook his head. 

“They both died taking a drug that you’ve been a middleman for,” Red Hood finished, pulling out his gun. “Now you can tell me everything you know or you can bleed out onto your carpet and die before the semester ends.”

“That doesn’t sound too bad right now, honestly,” Kyle muttered, looking down at the floor where various books and papers were strewn around. 

“What did you say to me?” Red Hood demanded, pointing the gun at his forehead. 

Cass stepped forward and put both her hands around Kyle’s collar. She lifted him up a few inches into the air. “Drugs. Information. _Now._” 

“Alright, alright,” Kyle shrieked. “I honestly have no idea who makes the drugs—”

Cass raised him higher, angling him towards the window. 

“—but,” he cut in quickly. “I do have his number. He calls himself Rex. He contacted me a few months ago saying he was working on a new experimental drug for anxiety and he wanted a test group.” 

“So you gave the drug to Skye?” Jason demanded.

“I didn’t know!” Kyle exclaimed, looking from Batgirl to Red Hood. “I didn’t know it would kill her, man, you have to believe me. Rex said the drug wasn’t lethal. That it was just a fear inhibitor that would enhance student performance!” 

“Enhanced it enough to wipe them of their safety instincts and make one walk off a roof and the other try a gymnastic technique that got him killed,” Jason said, leaning against the wall. “Seems pretty lethal to me.”

“Rex,” Cass said, looking into Kyle’s eyes. “Where is he?”

“I-I don’t know where he lives,” Kyle explained. “But I do know he has a lab right outside the Deli on East End. That’s where he had me pick up the drug the last time.”

Cass set him down. He wiped a bead of sweat from his forehead. 

They set off, without giving Kyle a second glance, leaving him amidst his mess

.

The East End Deli glowed a dim, fluorescent light, just enough to light up about half an acre of space on the street. On the other end of the Deli was a decrepit apartment, looking worn down but not out of the ordinary among the other buildings in the area. 

The only access to the third-floor apartment – Rex’s apartment – was the stairs. Not an ideal passageway, considering it would be too narrow and difficult to avoid injuries if they were attacked, but Jason was damn near sick of this drug and the deaths in the area. 

In Jason’s line of work, one slip-up often escalated into many. If the crime bosses in and around Gotham noticed that the Red Hood had allowed those drugs to get into teenagers’ hands, then word would travel fast. Other variants would come into the market and the grip he had so far established on the drug trade would slip. He couldn’t let that happen. He had to shut this down tonight and shut it down for good. Except for one little cog in the machine…

He glanced at Cass. Batgirl had certainly been resourceful tonight. She had quickened things up and helped with the investigation. She had been sort of fun, even, though Jason would still have preferred to work this case alone. But she had a purpose. She was here because his _methods_ didn’t align with the Bats’. That would make things difficult. 

“You know,” he tried. “I think one of us should keep an eye on Kyle. You never know, he might slip-up and warn Rex.” 

“You do it,” Cass said, keeping her eye fixed on Rex’s window. 

There was no bullshitting this one, Jason thought. “I like to work alone, especially in a fight.” That wasn’t even a lie, that was just pure Red Hood ideology. 

“Too bad,” Cass replied. “We’re together.”

Jason sighed. He would just have to free ball this. 

They trudged up the stairs together, quietly as they could with Jason in the lead and Cass in the back. Up on the third floor, the ceiling light flickered rapidly, making the scene low on visibility. Jason angled his gun in front of him while Cass positioned herself to his right.

They glanced at each other for a second and nodded. Then, Cass kicked the door open. 

The apartment was small but crammed with boxes and other obstacles. Rex, who was hunched over his desk, sprung up. He reached into his drawer for his revolver but Cass was too quick. She disabled him just as quick as the revolver reached his hands and emptied the shells. She grabbed him and threw him to the floor, towering over him. 

“I just wanted to help,” Rex whisper-shouted. His voice was hoarse, like he hadn’t spoken in weeks. “Crane invented the technique. I just wanted to perfect it.” He pulled out a tiny knife from the slit in the side of his pajamas but Cass intercepted the hilt and flicked it aside. It seemed like she was desperate to finish this without Jason butting in. “I wanted to make it better.” 

Jason marvelled at how fast she had moved. She truly was better than all of them in every way but Jason had a few tricks up his sleeve too. He kicked aside a little mirror on the floor, in an angle where it reflected the light from the Deli directly into Cass’ eyes. The fluorescence was too sharp; it pierced through her mask and blinded her momentarily. 

“I’m sorry, princess,” he said, pointing his gun to Rex’s forehead. “But we’re going to have to finish this my way.” 

He pulled the trigger. The bullet hit Rex’s forehead, only to bounce off. 

“What...” Jason muttered, staring down at his gun and then the bullet. Rubber bullets. Of course. She must have switched it while they were on recon duty back at Gotham State. He reached down to his thigh for his second gun, but it wasn’t there either. 

“Pulled it out in the car,” Cass said grimly, grabbing Rex from behind and cuffing him. “Give it up, little brother.” 

It infuriated him, how Rex was the criminal – the _murderer_ – but Jason was the one feeling apprehended. Little jolts of fury were spiking up his bones, no doubt the Pit’s influence, but it was well merited. This was his case. His case which Alfred and Cassandra Cain butted into. “What are you going to do? Throw him in jail? He’ll only break out to do it again. Worse, we kick him out of town and he does this in other cities to other teenagers.” Jason snarled. “Those kids deserve justice and every crime lord and death-mongering scumbag in this city need to know I’m willing to deliver it.” 

“Not justice,” Cass said, calmly. “Murder.” 

“Doesn’t matter what you call it,” Jason scowled, pointing his gun towards Rex. “If it helps get rid of a murdering, drug-dealing piece of shit like him then guess what, Batgirl? It. Doesn’t. Matter.” 

He flung himself towards Rex, hoping the sheer force of his body weight would knock them all down, but Cass was too quick. She threw the knife at his shoulder in the least threatening location, with just the right amount of force to pierce through his armour but not hurt him too badly. She pushed her foot against the wall and flipped herself into the air, coming to knock Jason down. She set her palm on the base of his throat. “He could change.” The word Bruce would use. What was it? “Redeem himself.”

“Do you honestly believe that?” Jason demanded. She couldn’t see his face, but she knew he was angry. His voice was radiating heat. Like a volcano. Everything bubbling up to the surface. Now Cass had no doubt that he truly believed in his cause. This wasn’t just a traumatised boy. This was someone with a purpose. Someone with a mission as ardent as Bruce’s, as hers. “Do you honestly believe that this fool has even an ounce of a conscience?”

“I have to.” She said firmly. _For my own sake._

She could hear cop sirens in the distance. Jason would have to get out of here and Rex would have to be further secured. She pushed herself off Jason and walked over to Rex. 

“Thank you,” Rex warbled, looking up at her with his clasped hands. “Thank you for saving me.” 

_I didn’t do it for you, _ she thought. _ I did it for him. _

But when she looked over her shoulder, Jason was gone. 

.

He was hoping Batgirl would leave him alone but the Bats had a level of persistence that was annoying beyond compare. He would know, he was like that too. 

It didn’t mean he wasn’t going to complain about it. 

“Come back to stab me again?” he snapped, pressing down on his wounds with a bandage. He had chosen to come to his favourite gargoyle in the city to sit and rant, maybe work off some frustration. It was the one location he was sure no one else would bother him in but he was wrong. Batgirl had tracked him down. 

“I’m sorry,” Cass said, sitting beside him, letting her legs dangle over the edge. “Let me.”

He had half a mind to brush her away but stretching his arm really hurt, even if it was only a flesh wound. He handed her the med kit and watched while she worked. 

“You’re the worst,” he reminded her. “I had him. _We_ had him. Now the Gotham criminals are just going to assume I’ve gone soft.” 

“You’re stubborn,” she responded simply, focusing on her handiwork. The air was chilly tonight. The sooner he got his jacket back on, the better. Cass supressed a little giggle at how silly he looked with just his domino on. Like two little tomatoes for eyes. Up here, it was almost impossible to think he was capable of murder, when he pouted like a little child. There was a vulnerability about it that made her feel both happy and sad, in a way. 

“Yeah, well, I’ve got what they call,” Jason said. “_A mind not to be changed by place or time._”

“The mind is its own place, and in itself can make a heaven of hell, a hell of heaven.” Cass finished, as though her mind was on autopilot. She had done this book before, at the Manor. Recalled how confusing some of the lines were, but doing it anyway because she was stubborn like that. Persistent. Dick often joked that something like that “comes with the territory.” Whatever that meant. 

“Paradise Lost,” Jason said, recoiling in surprise. “I thought you didn’t speak, or read.” 

“I read,” Cass said, wiping away his blood. She was almost done. “I read to speak.” 

“I’m almost not even mad at you anymore,” he said, sounding happy. Carefree. “The very fact that you’ve read Milton makes you a sibling worth keeping around. Almost on par with Duke, I gotta say.” 

Cass couldn’t help but smile. He spoke with such enthusiasm and passion that she could almost imagine what he must have been like at twelve. At Damian’s age. Excited, bubbly, sweet. Cass missed that version of him, even if it rarely slipped through his defensive wall. Even if she never knew that Jason, she knew it was a version she liked a lot more. 

“Didn’t finish it,” Cass said, putting aside all her supplies. “Ace ate it.”

“Ate it?!”

“Pretty funny. It was a boring book.”

“That is not funny,” Jason quipped, narrowing his eyebrows. “And Paradise Lost is a masterpiece. Bruce really is slipping if he’s letting the dog eat our most cherished possessions.” 

“He was hungry,” Cass giggled, picturing Ace in her head eating other things like Jason’s helmet or Damian’s head. She wouldn’t put it past the dog. He was a little bit crazy. “I like Shakespeare.” 

Jason shook his head. He leaned against the gargoyle and sighed, looking over the city. Cass leaned back with him.

“I’m still mad at you, by the way,” Jason reminded her but he couldn’t have been too mad considering he and Bruce had this fight like five times a week. He shrugged his jacket back on and rested his elbows on his knees. It was quiet. Peaceful. “What did you mean? Back in Rex’s lab when you said ‘I have to.’” 

Cass thought back to what he was talking about. He had asked if she genuinely believed Rex would redeem himself. 

“I...” Cass started. It was still difficult to talk about it. To even think about it. “I killed. When I was little…” She closed her eyes, breathed in deeply. She listened to the sounds of the city and told herself she was okay. She was fine. “I killed. Cain’s orders.” 

Jason swallowed, nodding to let her know he was listening if she wanted to go on.

“A man,” she continued. “Felt wrong.” 

She stopped, staring down at her feet. She breathed in again. “We should be better. Like _him_.”

Jason scoffed. “Bruce is plenty messed up.”

“But he’s right.” 

Jason remained quiet. He stared down at his hands. “It’s not your fault, you know,” he said. “The things you did as a kid. You didn’t know.” He looked at her, his hair falling through his eyes again. “You can’t blame yourself. I did things, too.” He pat her shoulder. “We do what we do to survive.” 

Cass swiped his hair away this time. Perhaps he would some day let her give him a haircut. She would love that. “We shouldn’t just survive,” Cass argued, holding onto his wrist. “We should fight… for a second chance.” 

Jason shook his head. “You do really take after Bruce, Cass.” He said, his voice uncharacteristically soft. “You believe in people you shouldn’t. People that aren’t worth it.”

“You’re worth it,” Cass said, gently. “Everyone is.”

Cass didn’t like it one bit. No. He killed and that was _wrong_. But he could be fixed. He could. Hadn’t they all been misguided at some point or the other? He deserved a chance, too. She wanted to help him try. If she couldn’t do it all on her own, she knew her family could help. Bruce, Dick, Alfred, Barbara…they could help. Her heart ached with that goal for him. She wanted to plead him with her eyes to just try to come over to the other side. 

“I’ll think about it,” he said plainly. There were no promises behind his words but no edge either. That, Cass would consider progress. It was much more than anyone had gotten from him thus far. “You still owe me by the way. For the stab. Sisters don’t do that to brothers.” 

Cass smiled. “Playfighting.” 

“Sure.”

“We can,” Cass suggested. “Do a reading of Milton. The full version.” 

“Now you’re talking.” 

Cass didn’t know if the city lights were playing a trick on her but it almost seemed like Jason was smiling too.

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: One of the characters, under the influence, walks off a roof and dies. This is the suicide mention, though it really isn't suicide considering she was under the influence and the drug inhibited her safety instinct. 
> 
> As for those of you who read this, thanks again! :)


End file.
